


Meeting Minutes

by WhoopsOK



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Established Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Gangbang, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Intern Peter Parker, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Vore?? Kinda??, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Other: See Story Notes, Sex Pollen, Sexual Fantasy, Truth Serum, Watersports, Wet Dream, mentions of diapers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21613594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: “We were working on a project…” Dr. Banner explains. Then explains and explains some more and condescendingly explains some words Wade definitely knows the definition of. Peter had accidently gotten dosed with some of their fancy new chemical compound. Then Stark explains himself in circles around the point, trying to find a polite way to say what Wade has already figured out.“You guys made sex pollen??” he exclaims, first shocked and then livid.(Peter gets hit with a truth serum and tells Wade his wildest wet dream.)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 620





	Meeting Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Belated Kinktober Day 28: Omorashi, Humiliation, Stripping sorta, and… Vore mention???
> 
> ...Look, I will apologize for nothing, you clicked in here all by yourself. There’s just enough plot to justify the GROSS. This is whichever Peter makes your heart happy.
> 
> Consent issues note: Peter consents while in an altered state, but he is aware of himself and what he is doing. They talk about it before they get down to anything sexual.

Deadpool isn’t stupid, he knows he’s a mess.

The Boxes that come and go, the unstable moral compass, the unstable _personality_ —really, he gets it. He’s the primary definition of ‘A Lot’ or ‘A Handful’ or ‘Two Handfuls and Four Stuffed Pockets’, actually, he thinks someone might’ve said that once. Point being, Wade has never once expected anyone to think he deserves Peter Parker as a friend, let alone a (Maybe Sorta Unofficial) Lover. The pinched looks of disapproval or concern, the outright annoyance are things he’s come to take with humor, because there’s something a little more spiteful about smiling and waving from Peter’s arm rather than giving them the finger. Peter won’t entertain their commentary, so neither will Wade. Plus, _fuck_ , was it hot to watch Peter go off on _Captain Fucking America_ on his behalf. Wade pulled himself off over that for a _week_ and didn’t kill a single person the whole time. That had pretty much ended the arguing and Wade was already used to getting funny looks. Things are pretty damn sunny right now.

So when _STARK INDUSTRIES_ pops up on his caller ID, his chest immediately goes cool with concern. Stark does his best to pretend Wade doesn’t exist at this point, so the only reason he would willingly reach out was if something had happened to—

Wade answers the phone. “This is the guy your mother warned you about. Who’s calling?”

“ _Wilson, it’s your lucky day_ ,” are the first words out of Stark’s mouth, sounding like he wishes to every deity—real, built, or otherwise—that what he was saying wasn’t true. “ _We need your help._ ”

Wade blinks at that, a dead childhood dream flickering back to life. “We as in the Avenge—?”

“ _We as in **Peter** ,_” Stark interrupts sharply. “ _I wouldn’t call you for anything else._ ”

_Figures_ , Wade thinks a touch glumly, but only a little concerned. Stark sounds uncomfortable not exactly _worried_ , so Peter must be… at least like 86% okay right now. Whatever they may feel about one another, they have loving the hell out of Peter Parker in common. Tony would be a _mess_ if something was really wrong. Still, “How armed do I need to be?”

“ _Not that kinda problem,_ ” Stark replies, then says something Wade can’t quite make out to someone in the room. “ _A car is pulling up now. Just…_ ” He sighs, the defeat in his voice not as satisfying as Wade expected it to be. “ _Get here._ ”

Sure enough, as soon as Stark hangs up, something sleek and annoyingly expensive pulls up on the curb beside Wade.

It wouldn’t be the first time Wade has died for getting into the back of a stranger’s car, but at least this time he’s _pretty_ sure it’s legit. Happy is most decidedly _not_ happy to see him, but that’s not particularly new. Wade still greets him like an old friend, chattering about nothing to fill the space until they reach Stark Towers—a lot faster than normal.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Wade asks.

Happy glances at him in the rearview. “Peter asked for you.”

Well, that’s a good enough reason.

Stark and Dr. Banner meet him at the door, already annoyed but also vaguely uncomfortable. “Come on.”

“What, no greeting?” he asks brightly. “No explanation as to how Peter got me a ticket to this sold out circus?”

“We were working on a project…” Dr. Banner explains. Then explains and explains some more and condescendingly explains some words Wade _definitely_ knows the definition of. Peter had accidently gotten dosed with some of their fancy new chemical compound. Then Stark explains himself in circles around the point, trying to find a polite way to say what Wade has already figured out.

“You guys made _sex pollen??_ ” he exclaims, first shocked and then _livid._

Tony Stark isn’t a man who squirms, but he gets damn close. “We weren’t trying to,” he defends.

Deadpool takes a step back from him, suddenly realizing why he’s here. “I don’t know what kinda guy you think I am, but—Actually, oh wait, yes I _do_ , and _fuck you_ for it. I would never fucking—”

“And I would never fucking let you!” Stark shouts. “Peter _asked for_ you. He’s lucid, he’s just…”

A door slams open at the end of the hall and Wade turns around to a perfect storm because Peter looks _unfairly_ hot. Like, yeah, the kind of hot that should be flat out illegal, but also like he’s been sitting in a sauna, face flush and shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sweat-slick chest. “Pete…”

“Wade, get in here,” Peter growls and all Wade’s hairless follicles stand on end. Then Peter’s face falls and his heart wrenches. “ _Please,_ I’m going fuckin’ crazy and if you don’t touch me I think I’m gonna explode, shit, babe, have I told you I love your skin so much, Wade, I wanna eat you sometimes?” he says all in a rush before looking plum shocked at himself. He covers his face, turning back into the room. “What the _fuck!_ ”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Wade agrees at almost the exact same time.

Stark pointedly keeps his eyes averted. “No filter.”

“ _None,_ ” Dr. Banner confirms like he’s heard some shit. “We figured he’d rather you know any, ah… sensitive personal details than to have him accidentally blurt them to one of us.” He winces. “Any _more_ of them to one of us.”

Wade looks over at him cautiously. “What’d he tell you?”

“He was mostly focused on how he felt and how nice Bruce’s chest hair is,” Stark answers and Wade notices Banner’s shirt is buttoned all the way up to that stupid tiny button people only use when wearing ties or looking pretentious. “He asked about the Hulk’s dick, but—”

“He realized what he was saying and asked to be contained,” Banner cuts in, with a sharp look in Stark’s direction before turning back to Wade. “He’s just gotta sweat this out, but it’ll be shorter and…” He adjusts his glasses nervously. “Well, much less painful for him to have help.”

“Help.” Wade repeats flatly.

Banner just looks at him. “Yeah, _that_ kind of help,” he answers, “but also listening to his confessions.” He doesn’t actually look as uncomfortable as Stark at the prospect, but he must see Wade processing that about him because he just shrugs. “He asked for you. First and only, Wade.”

That thought stings so sweetly, Wade has to drop the pretense of storming out on principal. “Can’t argue with that logic,” he says, turning towards the room where Peter has quarantined himself. “You’re not recording, right? I’m camera shy.”

Stark gives him a sour look. “No, but if Peter asks him or his vitals trip an alarm, JARVIS will send in reinforcements.”

“Message received.” Wade salutes. Stark doesn’t trust him, that one status quo has been maintained in this odd day.

Wade walks to the door with no trepidation, because Peter is only scary when he’s angry and, even then, it’s not like Wade has ever had the good sense to stay away from him. Now, he’s just high and a little loose in the lips; not nearly enough of a deterrent.

“Shnookums?” Wade says, knocking on the door and poking his head inside. It looks like it could just be Peter’s private office—Stark Towers has more than enough room for that sort of thing—but it smells distinctly of _body,_ like Peter has been sitting in here sweltering. “Petey-Pie?”

Peter has his back pressed against the far wall behind the desk, hands flat against the brick, eyes wide. “Shut the door,” he whispers frantically, “I don’t want them to hear me anymore, they know enough about how much I want cock, _fuck_.”

“Well, that’s not exactly a bad thing to want in the grand—” Wade starts to say as he steps in and latches the door shut behind him, but then Peter is _on him_.

It’s not quite the full use of his super strength, but it’s enough that Wade doesn’t have a single hope of staying upright. He catches Peter gracelessly as he sinks to the floor, Peter kissing him frantically. He’s fever hot where he’s pressed all along Wade, hands on his face, his scalp, stretching at the collar of his shirt to touch his collar bones.

“Shit, baby boy…” Wade gasps when Peter pulls back from kissing him to rub their cheeks together. Wade’s so shaken up he can’t even repeat the sex kitten joke Yellow makes.

“Wade, you feel so good, want you so bad—”

“Wait—” Wade manages to squeak out in spite of the sudden rush of blood to just about everywhere except his brain. It has the unintended effect of making Peter stumble back off him.

Peter’s face is twisted with horror. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, were you—? I’m not going to—I can control myself, ok? Please don’t leave, I’m sorry, are we just talking? We can just talk, I can do that. I want to say _everything_ , Wade, my head is a mess,” he blubbers breathlessly.

“Hang on, Spidey, I’m not a saint. I’m never opposed to you feeling me up,” Wade soothes, reaching out for him. The first thing he reaches is Peter’s ankle and even touching that is enough to have Peter letting out a harsh breath. Struggling to remember why he even paused, Wade soldiers on, unused to having to be The Adult in any situation. “But your first time is not gonna be with you high off your ass on boner dust.”

Peter blinks in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d care about that kind of thing.”

It takes Wade a hurt second to realize he means the virgin thing not the intoxicated consent thing. They haven’t discussed this, not at length anyway, but yeah, it matters, even if only a little. Wade _fully_ intends to deflower Peter like a princess in a bed of rose petals, slow jams playing in the back ground. That’s a conversation for another time, though. “I care about _you,_ Peter.”

Eyes clearing for a moment, slightly anyway, and Peter nods. “You’re my favorite person.” He looks sheepish when Wade gives him a touched smile. He shakes the ankle in Wade’s hand. “You’ll touch me, though? I’m burning up here, babe.”

“Hell yes,” Wade says, coming forward. He lifts Peter fairly easily, sits on the couch with him in his lap.

“I really like that, I like when you manhandle me, I say I don’t because it makes me feel small, but it’s ok feeling small with you sometimes,” Peter blurts. The way his lips curl every time he says something he doesn’t mean to is, honestly, so fucking cute. “Can I take your shirt off?”

“Aye aye, captain!” Wade lifts his arms, lets Peter pull his shirt over his head before pushing his own button-down off his shoulders.

“Don’t talk about Cap right now, god, I wanna grate myself on his face sometimes, but not now, I just—” Peter leans forward, so they’re chest to chest, breath shuddering out in relief. He rocks his erection against Wade’s. “Just want you, just you, I wanna take these off.”

Wade is being sorely tested today. “Might chafe,” he warns.

“Just the khakis, then, please, I’ll be good, Wade,” Peter begs, hands at Wade’s waist, “I know you like me all soft and good, when I’m your _baby boy_ —”

Yellow says something about how blisteringly hot that is that Wade is not nearly coherent enough to parse, but then he gets the distinct feeling of White nudging his conscious. He catches Peter’s wrists. “Peter, I gotta keep mine on,” he says because he doesn’t trust himself quite enough to not keep his dick to himself if Peter begs for it.

“Ok, yeah, ok,” Peter says, shaking his head, _shaking_ _period_ , but relaxes his hands off Wade’s pants. “I like cockteasing you, but not right now, I’m not teasing, I just need it, however you can give it.”

Wade has to dig his grave a little, though. He doesn’t let Peter’s wrists go. “You wanna be good for me, baby?”

Peter lets out a noise just shy of an outright whimper. “Yes please, Wade, babe, I’ll be so good, anything, wanna make you feel good, make you happy,” he replies, sweat running down his temple. He gasps out sharply when Wade chases it with his tongue. “But I gotta talk, I gotta talk, Wade, I don’t know if—I don’t know what I can say to make—” The look on his face takes a turn from horny to hurting, “I don’t want make this bad, but confessions are all _bad_.”

“Not always!” Wade says quickly, panic fluttering in his chest. He can’t actually imagine Peter has done anything heinous that he would need to confess. Then again, the downside—at least Wade would say it’s a downside—of having a firm moral standing is that it’s easy to know when you’ve crossed your own lines. He can see _that_ happening; Peter is such a genuinely good guy.

Sex isn’t supposed to be heavy or tragic, though, not even when there’s sex dust running through someone’s veins. Especially not then, actually. Especially not when Wade cares about Peter so damn much it makes his fucking head hurt sometimes.

“Confession isn’t always bad, you can confess nice things, too. Ooh, or kinky things!” Wade babbles before a thought occurs to him, has him reaching a hand down to Peter’s crotch. “Yeah! Tell me about your dirtiest wet dream.”

Peter is already too red to blush, but the look on his face says plenty about how horrifying he finds that. “ _Wade!_ ” he snaps, even if it draws out to nonsense vowels as Wade undoes Peter’s pants.

“What!” Wade exclaims as Peter stands up to shove his pants down before falling back onto Wade in a hot tangle. “This is a sexy interrogation, what am I supposed to ask about! And anywhichwho, dreams are all a mess of gross stuff you might not _really_ want, I won’t judge you.”

“Promise me,” Peter gasps and that tragic look is back on his face. “Wade, promise me you’ll still want me after, I can’t lose you, you mean too much to me, I can’t, promise me we’ll still be—”

“Are there kids?” Wade asks, because he knows Peter well enough to know the answer.

“No! God no, never anything like that, Wade, I swear.”

“Animals? Corpses? Animal corpses??”

“ _No, no, Wade, it’s not—!_ ”

Wade kisses him, wraps him in his arms until Peter stops gasping like he’s about to cry. “Then we’ve cleared my no-fly zone, spidey-pants,” he says, running his hand down Peter’s spine, raking his nails back up. “You can tell me all your filthy secrets while I go down on you, ok?”

Peter whines, nodding frantically. “ _Yea, Wade, please,_ ” he says, goes easily when Wade flips them so Peter is laying on the couch, rubbing himself and the fabric and Wade’s scalp and shoulders. “I’ve had dreams about your mouth, you have such nice lips, babe.”

“Come on, Petey, surely that’s not your dirtiest dream?” Wade says, even as he goes warm at the complement, kissing down Peter’s chest. “Hit me with your best shot, literally if you want.”

“You make me happy,” Peter laughs, but covers his face as Wade nears his dick which—it’s _really_ hard. That probably _is_ painful. Wade kisses it better, arousal sparking down his spine when Peter’s hips lift towards his face, a loud groan echoing around the room.

“Ditto, hot stuff,” Wade confesses, some Profound Feelings seeping into the words without him meaning for them to. He can’t quite meet the adoration in Peter’s eyes, focuses on leaning his weight across Peter’s hips instead. “Talk dirty to me,” he says as he licks down Peter’s shaft.

It takes a few moments for Peter to form any coherent words—Wade feels pretty damn similarly, actually, _he’s sucking Spiderman’s cock_ —but eventually he stumbles his way back into English.

“It’s—It’s at a meeting,” Peter gasps, hands on Wade’s head, not pushing just holding shakily like he might lose his grip on reality if he doesn’t balance. His voice breaks when Wade hums encouragingly. “An Avengers meeting, like a legit, official meeting where I’m just the—the new guy trying to keep up and I-I really had to…” He shuts his eyes, trips over the last part, like he’s trying to hold it back before whatever’s in his system kicks it out of his mouth. “I really had to _pee._ ”

Wade pauses at that, only a fraction of a second, because that comes as somewhat of a surprise relative to “Peter” and “wet dream” in the same instance. Still, he sucks him into his mouth fully, now rightly intrigued. He _mmhmm’s_ around Peter’s cock, hopefully accurately indicating his lack of judgment and vested interest.

Peter’s voice jerks at the sensation. “I had to go _so bad_ , Wade, but when I tried to leave, Mr. S—Tony wouldn’t let me. He just was talking down to me, ‘ _Where do you think you’re going? You’re keeping the minutes, kid, don’t slack off or we’ll get someone new.’_ And I was so nervous I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat back down and tried to keep taking notes, but I didn’t even know what they were _talking about_ any more _._ ”

_O-mo-ra-shi_ , Wade sings in his head, because he remembers the word now, has seen it on like, uh…Hentai Foundry? Something, the internet is deep and Wade will jerk off to almost anything at least once. The thought of a blushing, squirmy Peter desperate to go to the bathroom isn’t exactly a bad thought, honestly. Wade had been expecting something with web bondage or hot professors, but he can roll with this, too.

“And I tried, I did, Wade, I tried so hard to hold it, but I knew I was about to lose it.” Peter gasps like he may start crying, but the breathless arousal in his voice is unmistakable. “I tried to get up again, but Cap snapped at me to stop interrupting and I couldn’t _move._ I wanted to leave, but I was frozen there and I just—” He lets out a hiccupping little breath and Wade watches his face crumble even as his dick throbs in his mouth. “I couldn’t hold it. I just—I couldn’t move and I fucking pissed my pants like some stupid little kid, but I was _me._ I was an adult with and adult bladder and there was just _so much_ , I was pissing so fucking much, I couldn’t stop it and you could see it all down the front of my pants.”

Noooow, there’s an image. Wade hadn’t thought it’d be the kind of thing he thought of as a _hot_ image, but Peter is painting a pretty damn vivid picture. Wade is half-hard and plumb-shocked at the both of them.

“And I drop my fucking notes in the puddle when I go to grab myself, but I still can’t _stop,_ I’m just peeing in my hands now. And they’re _talking_ about me,” he starts affecting his voice to imitate the avengers. “Just, ‘ _Dude, are you serious?_ ’ and ‘ _Oh, gross, Queens!_ ’ and ‘ _He’s such a child, why did we invite him?_ ’ And then _Bucky…_ ” His hand flinches tighter on Wade’s shoulder when Wade pulls back some.

“Bucky what?” he asks against his cock, because damn if he doesn’t want to know, this is better than any of the RPF he’s ever read online. It’s _Peter._ He has to keep his hips still or he’s going to start grinding into this sofa.

Peter’s eyes flicker open to look down at him, wild-eyed. “Wade…” he whines.

“You got me on the edge of my seat, Petey, tell me what Bucky did,” Wade teases, but as he mouths at Peter’s balls, he’s unsure how much he’s teasing himself verses actually helping Peter work through his serum.

It must land something like an order—which, oops, White thinks maybe Wade should be careful about that—because Peter twinges all over, seems to sag with the relief of being commanded to spit it out. “Bucky gets me by the arm and doesn’t loosen up, but I’m not strong enough to get away from him this time. So they just—they start taking off my clothes off and it’s—Wade, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“You’re okay, baby boy,” Wade assures him. He thinks he’s got some inkling where this is going, and even so, “I’m still with you, you got me. And the Boxes. We’re still onboard.”

Peter makes a desperate keening sound, covers his mouth to hold it back. “I don’t—I don’t _know_ , it was all so surreal, I couldn’t tell all of what was happening, everyone’s hands were all over and overlapping, I couldn’t tell who but I _wanted it all._ I was getting held down and fucked over the table, they were passing me around and someone—” his voice breaks, “—someone pissed in my ass? It was leaking out but they only blamed _me_ because I was still pissing on the floor between my feet, I couldn’t stop. And—and then they—” He stops covering his mouth to pull at his hair.

“I was so embarrassed, Wade, they kept calling me names and making fun of me. Someone grabbed my dick and said I should be wearing diapers and I _felt it._ For just a second, I felt the diaper all warm and soft on my dick and.” He heaves for breath, “It was _so good._ I woke up so hard all I did was sit up, just moved on the fucking mattress and I _came_ just like that. But even—even then I couldn’t stop _thinking_ about it and I jacked off like right after and, fuck, Wade—” His voice tinges towards hysteria. “ _Wade,_ I liked it, I liked it so much, please tell me it’s ok, I don’t want you to hate me?”

Wade spares the thought to hope these walls are soundproof. He pulls off Peter’s cock to lay over his body, shushing him gently between kisses. “Oh, come on, I’d never hate you, Petey Pants, don’t be silly,” he says. “That was actually really hot. A primo, A+ level wet dream.”

“I don’t believe you,” Peter whimpers, but then Wade is pressing his arousal against Peter’s hip and his face flashes with shock. “You—”

“I’m so hard for you,” Wade confesses, because fuck, if Peter gets off on it, it’s okay to play around with. That’s probably not a great metric for morality, White informs him, but hey, it’s worked out pretty great for them so far. Yellow is right, Wade really should get that “ _What would Spiderman do?_ ” Livestrong bracelet. “I bet you’d be so pretty, all flush and desperate, potty dancing in front of the Avengers. You’re so strong, watching you lose control would be anyone’s wet dream.”

“I wanted it,” Peter confesses again, hands on Wade’s face. “It would’ve been better with you, though. You asked for the dirtiest and that’s it, but I wasn’t lying, I want you so bad, I wake up hard for you. I’d want you more.”

Wade can’t hold back the sound he makes, he’s leaking into his underwear. “Good thing I’d be right there, then,” he says lowly, because this is fake but also if it wasn’t, Peter sure as shit wouldn’t go in there alone. “I’d watch them run a line of superheroes through you, fuck you right in the middle of a meeting. Would you cry?” He asks and when Peter bucks up against him, he gets a hand between them, around Peter’s still slick dick before he can rub himself raw on Wade’s pants. “Lil birdy told me you wanted the Hulk’s dick, too, you think you could take him?”

“ _Fuck!!_ ” Peter cries out, legs scrambling around before closing tightly around Wade’s waist. “Fuck, I’d wanna try, I’d wanna try with his hand on my back, bet he’s so big Wade.”

“Size queen! Maybe Cap’s big, too,” Wade says because, damn if he hasn’t wondered hard enough to get hard about it before himself. “He could open you up first, fuck you all sloppy until Big Green could just slide right in. You think he’s got a Hulk sized bladder?”

Peter stops just short of screaming. “ _Yes, yes, fuck please,_ ” he wheezes badly enough that Wade vaguely wonders how closely JARVIS is paying attention to his vitals. “Wade, you, where are you, I want you.”

“Oh, where would I be?” Wade muses, jacking him off, “I think I’d sit on the table and make you an even bigger mess,” he confesses. “Make you sit on my cock while you’re leaking piss all over their fancy conference table.”

“Wa—hah, Wade, I’m gonna—” Peter warns him, or at least, Wade figures that’s what he says. The words are all slurred together and half-pronounced.

“Yeah, baby, come for me,” Wade says, but leans down to whisper in his ear. “Long as you know I wouldn’t let you come until I did, until I pissed right up into your perfect little ass.”

There is a moment where Peter _does_ stop breathing, like the image was enough to freeze his lungs in his chest. Wade would almost be worried about it if not for the look on Peter’s face, mouth open wide and eyes staring up unseeing before they roll back. Peter’s whole body tenses, clinging to Wade almost painfully as he comes for—

Wow, ok, such a long time, that’s a _lot_ of jizz. Wade should be grossed out, probably, but he finds the display inordinately hot. Like unrealistic ahegao porno hot as Peter comes in continual spurts over Wade’s pumping fist and his own body. When he finally takes in a breath it’s shuddering and comes out on a broken moan that rings in Wade’s ears.

“There you go, baby boy, that’s it, let it all out for me, you’re so fuckin’ hot…” Wade murmurs, loses track of his babbling as he rocks himself against Peter’s hip, coming in his pants with exactly no shame about it because how the _fuck_ could he not, _look_ at Peter _._ “Holy crab cakes, Batman…”

It’s normally the sort of stupid joke that would make Peter laugh, but he only continues moaning softly. Wade keeps stroking him until he goes limp, falling back onto the sofa, looking spectacularly fucked, like somewhere out past _Pluto_ spaced out. Wade just watches him until he gets his own breathing under control, until Peter blinks slowly like he’s just waking up.

“Peter?” he says and it’s enough to draw Peter fully back to reality, meeting Wade’s gaze blankly. Seconds before he abruptly burst into tears. “Oh, honey bunches…”

“That was so fucking awful, I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes through sobs, covering his face.

“No, no, hey, shh,” Wade sits up to cuddle him close in his lap, all bundled up in his arms. “I told you, baby, we’re ok here. That was really hot and fun, actually, but if you hated it, we don’t ever have to talk about it again, I promise. Nobody else heard you, just your favorite fucked up merc who is in no goddamn position to judge you and still loves you very much.” When Peter sucks in a shocked breath, Wade realizes what just came out of his mouth, his heart flinching in his chest at the thought. “Oh uhhh have I said that before? No? Oh, oops, well, guess that cat’s out of Schrodinger’s Box! Yeah, of course, I loved you before and I still love you and—and it’s going to be ok? I hope?” He swallows. “I just said the L-word like three times in a row so I really, _really hope_ we’re ok?”

Peter whines and hides his face against Wade’s throat instead of in his own hands. “I love you, too,” he cries softly, voice thick with relief as he gets his arms around Wade.

Wade feels like he’s in the best/worst sort of freefall. “Peter, you don’t have—”

“I love you,” Peter repeats firmly. “I’ll tell you again when I’m not _compromised_ , but can we—?” He sniffs and Wade hugs him tighter when he realizes he’s shaking. “I want to go _home._ ”

“I can do that!” Wade promises, giddy at even the implication that Peter could love him, too. “Do you have spare clothes here? Can I sneak you into one of Stark’s fancy ass showers? I know he has one.”

It makes Peter laugh a little which makes butterflies and cotton candy explode in Wade’s chest. “JARVIS?”

“ _The hallways have been cleared between here and the washrooms, Mr. Peter,_ ” JARVIS replies. “ _Shall I tell Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner you are well?_ ”

Wade tips his head back to the ceiling. “Tell the Chaos Twins he’s not feeling very social right now and I’m taking him home!”

“Yes, JARVIS, I’m okay now,” Peter says, stroking a hand across Wade’s chest. “Symptoms minimal if even still present. Ask them to leave a blood draw kit out and I’ll leave some samples behind for testing.”

“ _Consider it done._ ”

“And _then_ I’m taking him home,” Wade adds on. Peter does not dispute this.

“ _Of course, Master Wilson,_ ” JARVIS answers pleasantly.

Peter only puts up a token resistance to being carried, but he looks just shy of exhausted so Wade wraps his shirt around Peter’s waist before bridal carrying him out of the room. The hallways are emptied as promised. Showering together is an interesting exercise in intimacy, because Wade doesn’t want him to _drown_ so he steps in with him, lets Peter get a look at the whole horror show.

Except it doesn’t feel like a horror show when Peter blinks awake enough to look him over, leaning forward to kiss his shoulder before he hides there, sleepy and docile. After a brief and mostly painless blood test, they leave in matching _Stark Industries_ sweats. Happy is pleased Peter doesn’t have actual brain goo leaking out of his ears, even manages to keep his face civil when Peter crashes on the ride, tucked comfortably under Wade’s arm.

Peter spends the rest of the day conked the fuck out on Wade’s couch while Wade wanders around doing chores, fielding texts from Stark, and casually chatting with The Boxes. You know, trying not to creepily watch Peter sleep. He’s mostly successful. By nightfall, he’s coming back from paying the Favor guy, wondering whether or not he needs to wake Peter to make sure he’s not…chemically concussed, or something, only to find him already awake, squinting at him.

“The princess awakes!” Wade says, dropping their takeout on the table and squatting down beside the couch. “How are you feeling, my fair spider?”

“Like I ate cat litter,” Peter croaks, waving for the water bottle on the table until Wade passes it to him. “And could still eat a horse…”

Wade laughs. “Aw man, and here I thought I was special!” he jokes only to wish he could suck it back in when Peter chokes on his water, looking horrified. He pounds on his back. “Oopsies, I’m jk, Petey. I got Thai from that place on Guad, we don’t have to talk about eating horses or mercenaries or—”

“I don’t really want to eat you,” Peter blurts out awkwardly when he regains his breath. He looks uncomfortable, but not like he’s considering tangoing with a train, so there’s that simple win. “Not really. It’s just…”

Wade is all geared up to say ‘ _I know_ ’ or make a joke about loving Peter even as a zombie, but the way Peter trails off makes him curious. “It’s just that I look so damn appetizing?”

Peter shoots him a withering look, before looking down at his hands, picking his nails. “I try so hard not to get possessive.”

That seems like a non-sequitur, even the Boxes seem to sort of shrug at him. “Possessive?”

“I don’t really want to eat you,” Peter reiterates firmly. “It’s not a _cannibal_ thing, it’s just…” His face pinches and he motions around dismissively. “Sstupid, hindbrain emotional shit. If I eat you, you can’t leave and nobody can take you.” He looks up at Wade, half-shamed but also undoubtedly earnest as he shrugs. “You’d be inside me where you belong, always,” he mumbles into the water bottle as he takes another drink.

For the second—third? tenth? what’s the point in counting—time today, Wade is struck by the feeling that he’s fallen in love with the best possible person. Like, maybe even enough to let him eat him, surely there’s a comic where that’s happened. “Gotta confess, Petey,” he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That is flattering and also _weirdly_ hot.”

Peter laughs and relaxes all at once, hands coming up to cup Wade’s face as he kisses him again. “That makes you some kinda freak, you know that?”

“Nah, I’ve always been _some_ kinda freak, this makes me _your_ kinda freak,” Wade corrects, nuzzling into his cheek and ignoring how Yellow gags at him. “Which probably makes you _my_ kinda freak, too.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Peter agrees, hugging Wade sweetly. “Though, I might have to bite you if I don’t get something to eat soon.”

Wade laughs, sitting back. “I got curry!”

“My hero,” Peter replies, with a little more affect than was likely intended.

They’re powering through their takeout in a way only hungry superheroes can, when Peter speaks up around a mouthful of noodles. “Hey ‘pool.”

Wade barely glances away from the TV at first, but double takes when he notices the nervous amusement on Peter’s face. He looks his most heart-stoppingly gorgeous when he’s happy for seemingly no reason and Wade’s about to have a cardiac event. “Yeah, Spidey?”

Peter turns to face him completely. “Am I sober enough to say ‘I love you’ now?”

“I’m definitely having a heart attack,” Wade wheezes, fumbling Peter’s food out of his hands and onto the coffee table.

Peter laughs and lets himself be pushed back on the sofa as Wade kisses the smile off his mouth. He holds him close and returns each of his _I love you_ s and maybe this is a dream but Peter says it’s not and White seems to agree and Yellow is stuck in a loop of “ _oh my god oh my god_ ” which is not disagreement so this really, really just might be real.

Deadpool is still most definitely a mess and probably always will be, but maybe that’s okay, too.

Because it’s the exact sort of mess Peter wants to get his hands in.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…i wish this for you: sweet dreams and kind wakings
> 
> Hm... I originally had a tentative posting schedule, but, well, self-control and I are barely on speaking terms, so she only comes around with absolutely necessary.


End file.
